


nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottoming, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintracks/pseuds/traintracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My beta wanted me to title it with this, but I think it makes a decent summary: James: Cockwhore (especially for his brother).</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for February's Daily Deviant.

It happened between the passing of the shepherd's pie and the roast. Eventually, given the scope of their mixed family dinners these days, it always happened.

The story of how James had practically saved his brother's life during that Quidditch match seventh year when he took a Bludger that had been heading straight for Albus' head. It had been the Bludger that lost him the Snitch and Gryffindor the game and had landed James in the hospital wing with a broken arm and collar bone.

And someone always had to point out, though it had been five years ago and was old news to James himself, "And it won Albus and Slytherin the game, too! Now that's brotherly love."

James gave Uncle George a withering smile. Aunt Angelina took away his dandelion wine, and James was quietly grateful. Sometimes the Weasleys forgot that the Potter table was practically bursting with Slytherins.

Draco wiped his mouth primly with a napkin. "I seem to remember Albus scoring four goals that game, too, didn't you, Al?"

"Hmm?" Al looked up. "Oh, uh, five actually."

James smirked. He said it like it was nothing. To Al, it was. He didn't give a rat's arse about Quidditch. He'd tried out because Scorpius wouldn't have otherwise, and they were, in many things, attached at the hip.

"Five. My mistake," Draco said, attempting to mask a smirk of his own and sharing a look with Dad.

James looked back down the table at Albus again. His brother was staring at him, expression nearly inscrutable. James took a deep breath and looked away.

"And we mustn't forget that Scorpius caught the Snitch," Dad piped up, ever the diplomat.

Scorpius turned all shades of pink across the table from James and tried to look grateful for the attention. He had to be the shyest Malfoy ever spawned.

"How long were you in hospital, James?" Aunt Hermione inquired.

"Just overnight," James assured her. He shifted in his chair. "It was no big deal." He made the mistake of catching Albus' eyes again. To be fair, Al's eyes were already on him when James looked up. And now a faint smile graced his lips.

"It was still very brave," Uncle Ron said around a mouthful of potatoes.

"It was just instinct," James sighed. He pushed his food around his plate, feeling Albus' gaze still on him. He shifted in his seat again and had to bite his lip.

"Well, whatever it was, I've never seen someone fly so fast," Uncle Ron went on. "Not even your father. Or your Mum for that matter."

"Yes, thank you, Ronald," Mum said at the other end of the table, rolling her eyes.

"I'm just saying, James can really sit a broom," Ron finished, and James would have been fine -- he really would have -- had Albus not spit a sip of water out hearing it.

"Are you all right, son?" Dad frowned.

"Yeah," Al coughed. "Yeah, I'm totally fine." Then his eyes landed on James again, and the mirthful heat there sent a jolt through him. James could feel his face flaming, but he couldn't help a quirk of his lips back.

He shifted on his chair again, touched his wand, and cast a softening charm on the seat.

That was better. 

James drank down his wine and when Draco made to refill his glass, he put his hand over top. "Thanks, but I need to be able to Apparate."

"You could always Floo," Draco advised him. "Or your old room is made up."

James smiled at him. "I appreciate it, but I have an early day tomorrow."

Draco was about to set the bottle down but then seemed to think better of it and filled his dad's glass almost to the brim while Dad was embroiled in Quidditch talk with Uncle Ron.

James caught himself before he snorted, and his eyes fell once more on his brother. Al wasn't looking at James now. He was leaned back in his chair listening to Aunt Hermione and nodding. James took that time to surreptitiously watch him.

The easy half-smile he wore. The lack of tension around the eyes. The lazy lean of his body. The way one hand slowly molested a fork.

Albus looked away from her and caught James staring. And the expression he wore told James that he knew. That he knew everything. He blinked his dark eyes and licked his lips. James swallowed and looked around the table to see if anyone could possibly notice what was, to him, so blatantly obvious.

Everybody was either eating or talking.

While James sat there _burning_.

"Excuse me," he murmured to whoever cared. 

He got up, shot a look at Albus down the table, and then made his way down the hall like he was headed for the loo. Jesus, he felt it with every step he took. His heart pounded hard near his throat. He bypassed the bathroom and walked to Albus' old room at the end of the hall instead. He tried the door and found it unlocked.

For Merlin's sake, they'd be back at the flat in two more hours! Surely, he could last.

James swallowed. He knew what he wanted and "lasting" wasn't it. 

He went into the room and shut the door behind him, putting up wards against everyone but his brother.

The room looked the same except that everything seemed smaller. Albus' old trunk sat at the foot of his double bed. His Weird Sisters and Nine Inch Nails posters nearly covered the walls. His potions set from Hogwarts adorned the desk in the corner, and there were piles of books everywhere you looked.

As James scanned the familiar space, Albus' face appeared suddenly outside the bedroom window. James jumped. Albus tapped the glass with his wand, and it opened, allowing him to crawl inside.

"Bloody hell, Albus," James breathed.

"I said I was taking a walk," he smirked. He stalked toward James, flicking his wand and erecting privacy charms as he went. Then he threw his wand aside carelessly, backed James into the door, and ran his hands up under James' shirt.

"Albus…" James said in a ridiculously warning voice. This was his token resistance, completely fabricated for his pathetic conscience.

"Oh, like you didn't come back here because you're dying for me to shag you." Al pressed his face into the side of James' neck and murmured, "Again." His mouth opened and his hot breath made James shiver. His tongue lapped up a tense tendon and then teased James' ear. " _I_ came back here because I'm dying to shag you." He chuckled against James' ear, "Again." 

His hands ran up and down James' torso under his shirt, up his chest, down his stomach, tickling perversely at his waist, moving hungry up his sides.

James made a sound of both frustration and surrender and yanked his t-shirt up and off.

"Oh fuck yeah, Jamie," Al breathed. "Are you sore?" His hands pushed down the back of James' jeans, into his pants, squeezing and massaging his arse.

"You know I am, you bastard." He stood there with his arms hanging down, refusing to touch Albus yet. James just stood there and got hard from Al grabbing his sore arse.

"And you still want it?"

"Why do you insist on asking me questions you already know the answers to?"

"Because I get off on hearing how much you want my cock fucking your sweet arse," Al answered, as ever brutally honest.

"It's not enough to hear it while you're actually _in_ me? You want it before now too?" James shoved his brother away, and Albus smirked at him, his eyes alight with sex and mischief.

James began unfastening his jeans, and Al's gaze dropped to watch his hands work the buttons.

"Don't just stand there like a sodding git," James huffed at him, bending and stripping off his jeans. "Pull that trunk out." He nodded toward Al's old Hogwarts trunk. The one with the rounded top that was just the right height.

Albus set to it, dragging it into the middle of the room. James pulled off his pants, leaving them in a heap by the door, and then walked over to Al naked, his cock hard and deep pink and bouncing.

Albus' eyes flashed over him. "Christ, Jamie," he said and then pulled James close again roughly, one hand against his lower back while the other wrapped around his cock and gently tugged.

James hissed in a breath.

"I couldn't bloody stand it," Albus whispered a confession against James' ear as his hand worked. "All of them at that table and only me knowing how fucking hot you are bent over for a cock."

" _Your_ cock, you mean," James murmured into his hair. "And you looked calm enough to me."

Albus pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Looks can be deceiving." He ran his thumb over the wet slit of James' prick, and James inhaled sharply again.

Then Al was pushing on his shoulder. Pushing him down to his knees. "Get me hard so I can fuck you again," he growled.

This was the part James loved. It was the part he couldn't get enough of. Albus' thick cock inside him – anywhere inside him – was what he kept coming back for. He'd take it still sore from the last time. He'd take it hard and fast, forfeiting his own pleasure for Al's, or he'd take it painfully slow, plenty of time to know what they were doing and how fucked up it all was. 

He'd take it three times in a day if he could.

He'd take it whining and panting and totally undone.

Because yeah. James loved cock. He loved a cock in his mouth or slamming into his arse. But sometimes he hated how much he loved when it was his brother's.

James dropped to his knees and fought with Albus over who would get his flies open. Finally Al dropped his hands away, and James shot him a 'you're bloody well right' look before dragging his long, pretty cock out.

Albus had a really pretty cock.

And it was already fully hard.

"Just do it a little bit," Al said. "We don't have all day. None of your blow job extravaganza business."

"Oh shut it, Al," James told him and then took Al so far down he lodged him in his throat first try.

"Shit, Jamie," Al gasped. His hand came to rest on James' head. It felt exquisite, that weight. Paired with the heady sensation of Al's cock bruising his throat, it made James close his eyes and sigh.

James began bobbing his head, letting the crown of his brother's cock push into his throat every so often but mostly just getting lost in the feel of it rubbing over his tongue, stretching his lips – getting lost in the rhythm and how Al's hand contracted into a fist in his hair, how he sounded, whining and thrusting.

The musk from Al's cock and bollocks was strong. They'd only done a cursory clean up after the first time back at the flat. And the scent drove James' arousal higher. He changed the fit of his mouth around Al's prick and groaned.

Al began fucking into his mouth, so James just covered his teeth and let it happen. The heavy slide of it, the salt-slick tip, the tender assault… James could come soon and he knew it.

But before long, Al pulled out altogether, whimpering at the way James' tongue swept out and smeared spit over the head on his retreat.

"Come on," Al murmured, and though it didn't make any sense, it didn't have to. James _knew_ him. James understood perfectly.

"Don't get undressed," James said quietly, warningly. And then he draped himself over the trunk, arse up.

Al knelt behind him, cock protruding from his jeans and James totally naked. It's how James liked it. He liked the feel of the denim, rough against his skin. He liked knowing Al was about to shag him in his _Radiohead_ t-shirt, the one James had bought him after the concert.

James was in love with his own vulnerability, any and all control slipping out of his fingers and into Albus' as he nudged at James' rim, pushed, and began penetrating him.

"Oh, shit," Albus swore, sliding in. He cast a belated lubrication charm and pushed himself in to the hilt. "Jamie…" he breathed. "Fuck… You're so red and sweet and stretched," he observed. "Does it hurt?"

James spread his thighs wider, feeling how that changed the sensation – how it made him feel simultaneously full and open, a hole to be used, a deep well of yearning opening up inside of him.

He was sore, and it ached a bit. It stung a bit. And that was perfect. It was just what he craved.

"Fuck me good, Al," he said.

His brother whined, grasped his arse cheeks in his hands, and started to withdraw. "You love how that feels, don't you?"

James' eyes had rolled back. "God yes," he admitted.

Then Al plunged back inside, and they both grunted with the force. "And that?" Al's hands massaged his buttocks, pushing him closed and then pulling him open around his cock, no doubt watching it.

"You know I love it, you tosser."

Though James knew Al wasn't lording it over him so much as needing, begging to hear that it was all right. As brilliant as he was, as stubbornly independent, Albus needed to be right with James. 

"I love it," James whispered again and then whimpered as Al fucked him hard and deep.

James braced against the floor, his body rocked over the trunk. He'd begun to tremble.

"God, Jamie," Albus sighed. "God, Jamie. God…" It was what he'd been reduced to – a reverent gushing of words, his cock driving home again and again. "I love your arse. Oh my god, I love your arse."

James bit his lip on a smile and tightened around him.

Al gasped and whipped his hips. He slid his hands up James' back, curling his own body over top of James' as best he could and just took short, deep rutting fucks inside him. Albus laid his cheek against James' back and moaned. The fast fucking created that burn, that friction James needed. He widened his knees even more, letting them come off the ground, barely finding purchase with the tips of his toes. Giving it up to Albus. Giving in.

"Come up my arse, you sick little bastard," James urged him, knowing it's what his brother needed to hear. He needed to be forced to face their transgressions. He'd come harder this way. He'd fill James up.

Al buried his face against James' back and whimpered while he came. It flooded into James. He tightened his arse around Al's cock, relaxed, tightened again, as the spunk shot warm inside him and then began to leak out.

Al pushed off his back, withdrew, and then took himself in hand, moving his cock around the rim, smearing his come there. His breath hitched on a moan, and one last rope ran down James' crease.

James leveraged himself up slowly and turned, kneeling.

"Do we have time for me to get you off?" Al asked breathlessly.

"I dunno, do we have twenty seconds?" James snarked.

Albus' eyes sparkled, even through what James recognized as guilt. James took Al's hand and wrapped it around his girth. He moved both their fists up and down.

"Jamie," Al said. He bit his lip.

"What?" James frowned. He was close. So bloody close.

"I want to taste it," Al told him. "Like when we were in school."

James' eyes fluttered closed. He moved his hand out of the way, and then Al was bending down, suckling at the head, his hand moving frantically up and down the rest of the length.

"Bloody hell," James sighed. He shot into his brother's mouth, his head falling back, hips pumping, thighs tensed, and Al moaned and swallowed most of it, raising his mouth to let some of it splash his lips and face only to bob back down on it hungrily.

It had been a long time since Al had done that to him. James opened his eyes to watch, one hand sifting through Al's hair. And then doing it again.

Once he'd emptied, James let out a slow chuckle. "Your face," he said.

"Think they'll notice?"

James swiped over some of it with his thumb and then pressed it into Albus' mouth. Al sucked his thumb, and James' cock twitched hard.

"Shit," he said.

Al sucked off, stood, and then held out a hand to James.

"I'm not forty," James groused, standing on his own. He started finding his clothes and dressing.

"I'm going back out the window," Albus told him. "Think you can Apparate into the bathroom all right?"

"Yeah, can you See if anyone's in there first or can't you be arsed?"

Albus rolled his eyes. But then he shook himself, went weirdly vacant for about ten seconds, and then said, "All clear."

"Does anybody else but me know you can do that?" James asked him, buttoning up his jeans.

"Not yet," Albus answered. "But then, they don't know a lot of things you know."

James smiled at him softly. Then he dropped his eyes. He found his shirt and tugged it on while Albus righted the trunk.

"I'm never going to look at this thing the same way again," Al told him.

James flushed. "Clean up your face before you forget, you ponce."

"Right," Al answered.

James didn't watch as he did it. He didn't watch as Al prepared to sneak back out his own window.

But then Al called, "See you back out there."

James lifted his gaze, saw his brother straddling the window sill, his _Radiohead_ t-shirt slightly askew, and he said, "I'm so bloody sore, Albus."

Albus blushed. He smiled hugely. Then he _Accioed_ his wand and ducked outside.

James leaned against the door, his arse aching, and savored it.


End file.
